


Meteor Sword

by addledwalrus



Series: Folkloric Tales [7]
Category: Japanese Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Affection, Alcohol, Americans, Ancient History, Anthropomorphic, Asian Character(s), Auctions, Blacksmithing, Bronze Age, Character Death, Cruelty, Cultural Differences, Evil, Gen, Historical, Historical References, Homesickness, Honor, Hot Tub, Inanimate Objects, Iron Age, Japan, Japanese Character(s), Japanese Culture, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kings & Queens, Love, Loyalty, Modern Era, Nationalism, Oaths & Vows, Objectification, POV Inanimate Object, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Patriotism, Pet Names, Promises, Prostitution, Revolution, Ribbons, Sadism, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Samurai, Serious Injuries, Sex, Sexual Content, Spirits, Star-crossed, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Swords, War, War Crimes, Wealth, Weddings, Wooing, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addledwalrus/pseuds/addledwalrus
Summary: A sword passes through many owners over the course of it's history.





	Meteor Sword

You don't know exactly when you came into existence. There had yet to be any official script and masses of people were migrating from the main continent to the land that would become your home.

They were different from the ones whom came before, for they farmed rice and built villages wherever they settled. Those villages unified over time into various kingdoms that spread all over the island. The inhabitants of one such kingdom marked their bodies with tattoos to indicate their rank in society and it was one of them whom first saw you enter the atmosphere.

The sound that you produced upon crashing into the ground drowned out his screams as he became overcome by hysteria. His breathing was quite heavy when he recovered enough to crawl forward and investigate.

You noticed how wide his eyes were when he stared down into the crater and saw the long trail of smoke emanating from where you had landed. The next thing you knew, he was running back to his village to tell everybody about your dramatic entrance.

The way they all fussed and chattered about you afterwards was enough to make it clear that you were something extraordinary. They got to work freeing you from your rocky womb and amassed all the iron that would become your permanent form.

A man with the ability to forge metal spent many days hammering, bending and cutting away until you were one of the most beautiful of his creations. He kissed your hilt when his work was complete and affectionately referred to you as _Hoshi_ , for in his opinion, your blade shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky.

He bestowed you as a gift soon afterwards to the Queen, an ambitious woman whose dream was to conquer the surrounding kingdoms. She tied a red ribbon around your hilt as if you were a little girl and lead her soldiers into battle with you at her side.

She was fatally wounded during one of those battles and you mourned while she lay upon her death bed. She passed you on to her eldest son with the request that he continue her efforts after she died, and he agreed with tears of grief in his eyes.

He honored the promise at the cost of his subjects' well-being. They were left with very little to eat and began to revolt. The kingdom weakened and after a humiliating defeat, he was captured and brutally executed by the enemy.

You came into the possession of a soldier from the Yamato Kingdom and he took you back to his humble home. His simple way of living paled in comparison to the vibrant life of a monarch and you were homesick for many years.

* * *

Being passed down through several generations of the same clan served to dull memories of your original masters. As far as you were concerned, you had always served Hidetaka's family and would continue to do so for centuries to come.

Aside from being a brave fighter, he was also a fine poet. He had been betrothed since childhood to a girl named Takako and gradually won her affections through his poems and other gifts.

They married in spring while the cherry blossoms were blooming and as the pink petals fell, you knew that their promising to love each other for eternity was as futile as expecting winter to never come again.

For all his courage, Hidetaka was only one man. You accompanied him to the battlefield no less than two months after the wedding and an unexpected turn of events resulted in him having no other option but end his life to avoid capture.

His final act was to declare his love for Takako and allegiance to his Lord, before plunging you deep into his abdomen. The only sound he made was a quiet grunt of pain and as you felt the warmth of his blood, you realized how uncertain your future now was.

He closed his eyes for the last time with you still held tightly in his fists. You didn't know how long it would be until someone else came to claim you and whether they would be as honorable a man as he was.

* * *

You were only ever as good as the one whom held you, and the Colonel was a fanatic unlike any you had met before. He saw you as nothing but an instrument of death and you lost count of how many Chinese men, women and children lost their lives at the end of your blade.

All you knew that it was at least a hundred and while the first screams disturbed you quite deeply, you grew more indifferent to them with each passing day. Each victim was just another tally for the Colonel to boast about as if war was just a game to him.

It was odd how quickly such a sadistic and unflinching man was humbled by news of the country's surrender. He was one of many to hand over their swords to the victorious Americans and you never encountered him again.

You would have been doomed to be melted down in a furnace along with others of your kind, if it weren't for one especially bright man whom recognized your true value. He rescued you from the factory and though you felt violated being handled by a clumsy Westerner, you knew that it was infinitely better than being remade into some mundane household appliance.

He showed you off at private gatherings for a few years before leaving you in the attic one day and seeming to forget you completely. You lay inside that dark box and gathered dust for what seemed like forever, until a woman came to expose you once again to light.

She couldn't think of any practical use for you and made the decision to have you sold at some antiques auction.

* * *

**Tokyo, 2017**

Mr Yamamoto was able to bring the ancient sword back home via a private jet. He saw his purchase as both a personal and national triumph, for such artifacts rightfully belonged to Japan and were of profound historical significance.

He chose to celebrate by paying his favorite escort, the half-Russian Anna, to spend an evening with him.

He found her Eurasian features to be rather exotic and charming. Her nose was especially elegant, and it was what he focused most on while sitting with her in the hot tub.

His pride was cause for him to consider impressing her with an account of his time at the auction, but he remembered that women like her were far from foolish and feared that she might desire such a treasure for herself.

And so, it was that they enjoyed two glasses of sake together before it was off to the bedroom. As usual, his preference was for her to address him as 'Emperor' during the act so that he would feel like she was completely at his mercy.

He had security show her out once she was paid and after cleaning himself up, went off to admire the newest addition to his collection.

"You are home again..." He whispered while removing the sword from the stand and unsheathing it.

A tingling sensation traveled up his arm and he attributed it his mild rheumatism. He had not the slightest idea that there lay a deeper meaning to his words, stemming from him being a descendant of the very blacksmith whom had forged the weapon several centuries before.


End file.
